Henry Golding dropped his coat on the hook and glanced around, looking for the man of the hour. When he realized he was nowhere to be found, he grunted and placed the keys on the tray he had laid out for them and walked into the house, still holding onto his briefcase. He had had a very tiring day at work and all he wanted to do was talk to Taron, who had told him he would be here by now. Where was the damned man when he needed him?
He couldn’t even bother putting his briefcase in his office, he just dropped it on the couch and grunted again as he headed upstairs. He flopped onto the bed, his headache already killing him. Henry was an assistant professor at Boston University, and he had just started a couple of months ago when the new semester began. It was all fine until he held his first office hours, and realized how out of the loop his students were. It made him immensely worried for the upcoming midterms he had in store for them, and he half-wondered if he should make the questions a tad simpler to go easy on the lads.
He was usually, no, always the one to cook for himself and Taron, but he couldn’t muster up the energy today. Not when he felt so lousy. Maybe they could… get take out? He wondered if he should text Taron to inquire about when he would get home, but he didn’t want to be naggy and needy so he merely rested his eyes, letting sleep take him for a well needed nap.
He woke up to someone insistently shaking his shoulders, freaking out a little. “Henry! Is something wrong?” Taron prodded his cheeks, squeezing it dramatically as Henry glared at him. “What happened to my poor baby?!”
He sat up, wincing at the headache that was still pounding against his skull. “Nothing’s wrong.” He gritted out, though his heart was swelling at seeing the man he loved.
“Of course something is wrong! You left your bag on the chair, and now you’re lying in bed in your work clothes. Something must be terribly wrong with Henry John Simon Golding if he’s leaving things about like that!”
He knew it was a jab at him for being so organized all the time, but he chuckled a little, already feeling better. “I don’t appreciate that you know! One of us has to be the organized one in this house, or all of it would fall into shambles!”
Taron rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure.” He placed his hand on the other mans’ gently, giving him a more serious look. “So really, what’s wrong?”
Henry smiled sadly but shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong, I just wanted to take a nap, that’s all.” Taron knew he was lying, and he sighed, not knowing why Henry had to try to keep his emotions at bay all the time. Sure, he was the more dramatic one, but that didn’t mean Henry had to be the composed one all the time. He knew he shouldn’t push, but he desperately wanted to, it upset him every time he saw Henry like that, and he wanted to give him words of encouragement to make him feel even a little bit better. Before he could say anything though, Henry asked, “So, why were you late today? I missed you.”
Taron put his arms around him, squeezing slightly. “You’re so cute when you say things like that.” Henry rolled his eyes behind Taron’s back. “It was nothing, just a customer being annoying again, kept demanding for more polish- more polish!!!” He mimicked an American accent. “Even though his table was already past the point of shining.” Taron ran a furniture repair and refinishing shop, something that was never his plan, but just became a huge part of this life. His favourite part of it all was converting old pieces of furniture into something magnificent, and looking down at his work, realizing he was capable of doing all of this. His least favourite part was having to deal with all of the customers all day. It was grueling, and he just wanted to slam his head against the wall over and over when they repeated the same damned request and didn’t let him just do his job.
Henry chuckled at the terrible accent imitation, and pulled back from Taron’s embrace. Though they were both living and working in Boston, both were not originally from America. Taron grew up with his family near Liverpool, England and then Aberystwyth later on. This made him develop a semi-Welsh accent, though none of the Americans could really decipher that. Henry, on the other hand, was half British from his dad’s side and half Chinese from his mom’s side. He lived in London for a while, and then immigrated with his mum to America soon after his parents got a divorce at a young age. The two boys bonded initially by their similar journeys across the pond, though it developed into something much more than that. “Well, I’m glad you’re here with me now, anyways.” Henry said.
He wasn’t usually the type to say these heartfelt words, which made Taron even more anxious. There must have been something wrong, and the other man wouldn’t tell him. “I’m going to go take a shower and take these clothes off.” Henry said, getting up from the bed. He was feeling sticky from all the sweating he did from wearing his suit in bed.
“Do you want me to join you in the shower?” Taron said, winking at him and wagging his eyebrows.
Henry sighed loudly. “Nope, I need all the room I can get in there!” And walked to the bathroom without saying another word.
Taron grinned, knowing this would be his response, and walked out in the living room. The two men lived in a two bedroom apartment, both of them sharing an equal part of the rent. It was cozy, and of course decorated completely by Henry, who wanted things in a precise manner. Though, he loved Taron’s work tremendously, and every single piece of furniture was handcrafted by Taron. It made him feel warm inside knowing that Henry really did think he was talented, since he was usually such a picky person. They were lucky enough to have two bathrooms, one at the front for guests and one attached to the master bedroom, where Henry was currently showering.
The kitchen was where Henry spent the most of this time, while Taron loved sitting on the couch while screaming about his favourite talk shows across the room to where Henry was cooking. No matter how many times he asked, Henry would never let him cook with him, so he gave up after a while, not bothering to ask anymore.
Henry now stood in the bathroom after declothing himself, staring at his reflection. He had wavy black hair and a light stubble that he kept on solely because Taron thought it looked great on him. He had thick eyebrows and eyes that mimicked his mother’s, which was one of his favourite features. He had thin lips that were almost always frowning slightly, though he never realizes he’s doing it. Taron loved to call him his grumpy little potato, and though he complained, he loved how affectionate the other man was. He stepped into the shower, groaning at every bend of his sore muscles.
Taron was relaxing in front of the TV when a thought formed in his mind… he didn’t smell any food in the making. That was very peculiar for him, and there was usually something delicious in the kitchen, the aroma of a mix of spices lifting his spirits up. He paused the show and walked towards the kitchen, glancing around. It was spotless, and there was nothing there. No half-chopped food, nothing in the oven, nothing in the dishwasher. He pressed his body against the kitchen counter. There must be something seriously wrong.
Henry appeared a second later, rubbing his wet hair with a small towel. “Something wrong? Why are you standing in the kitchen with that look on your face?”
“Henry… where’s the food?!” Taron gasped, his hand on his neck.
“I…” Henry looked up at the ceiling, knowing Taron wouldn’t stop insisting now. “I didn’t make anything.” He gulped.
Taron looked at him, and then to the kitchen, then back at him. “What?”
“Maybe we can get take out or something?” Henry asked, wincing at his own words.
“But you hate take out! You think they just add a bunch of oil and salt so people will get addicted and keep wanting more! You say it’s horrible for my body!” Taron felt like he was having a panic attack.
“Maybe… maybe it would be good this time to try something new?” Henry said, though there was doubt in his voice.
“No, this won’t do.” Taron concluded. He started to push Henry into the living room, and plopped him down on the sofa, then he pressed play. “You sit here and finish my show, tell me what happened to Ann and Daniel, and I’ll make something.”
At that, Henry stood up, looking at him. “No way.” He said. “You’ll burn the kitchen down! If you really want something that bad, I’ll make something. Just wait for an hour or so.”
“No. I said I’ll do it, and I meant it. Just wait.” Taron dashed off to the kitchen, leaving a stunned and tired Henry behind. He couldn’t intrude now, it would mean that he wasn’t confident in Taron’s cooking abilities. But the truth was… he wasn’t. It wasn’t that Henry was picky, it was that Taron was truly terrible at cooking. He related it to woodworking and what he did at the furniture shop, and it was almost exactly the opposite of what cooking was like!
Henry continued to watch the show, though as time ticked on, he was feeling more and more uncomfortable. It was too quiet. Maybe he should go and take a peek. Just a tiny one. He snuck up behind Taron Egerton, who was a blonde man with long eyelashes and wrinkles that adorned his eyes when he smiled, which he did quite often. He had two significant dimples on either cheek, and though he was almost always covered in dust, his hair was always in perfect shape. Taron looked back and stared at him. “Um…” He said.
Henry sighed deeply when he saw the mess that Taron had made. It was worse than he could possibly imagine. Flour everywhere, dirty utensils laying bare on the counter, half chopped vegetables that he was going to use for another meal. It was horrifying. Henry almost wanted to just go back upstairs and take another nap. Maybe until morning this time. “What did you do?!” He demanded, then composed himself.
“I… I tried, okay?!” Taron said, almost wailing.
“I see.” Henry said.
“Are you mad at me?” Taron asked sweetly, putting on his puppy dog eyes.
“No just… I didn’t want to have to deal with this after the day I had at work.” He finally revealed.
“You had a bad day at work? I mean, I knew something was up, but you never talk to me about these things. I want to help you.” Taron said, leaning against the filthy counter. His pants were now covered in flour as well. Henry ignored that little detail.
“I don’t want to burden you.” He said, rubbing his face with his hands. He knew the behaviour was wrong, but he always stopped himself from speaking his thoughts. It was something that was forced onto men, and something that his father always taught him, though he wasn’t in his life that often after they moved away from England.
“Nothing you ever say would be a burden to me. Please, communicate with me. A relationship doesn’t work if you don’t communicate with your partner.” Taron said, and approached Henry, putting his arms around him. Henry stiffened a bit at the dirtiness of Taron’s clothes, though relaxed immediately when he felt his warmth.
“I almost forget how intelligent you are when you try to be.” He chuckled.
“Hey!” Taron said. Henry put his arms around him as well, and leaned in, breathing in Taron’s scent deeply as he calmed himself. “So… tell me what happened?” Henry nodded, and then started to talk about the stress he was facing at work, how he was trying to educate the students the best he could, but worried constantly that he wasn’t good enough at passing his mind off to them. It must be why they were doing so badly, it was because their professor was horrible at his job. Taron nodded, listening to everything in great detail. When Henry finished speaking, he tucked a strand of hair behind Henry’s ear as he pulled away from him.
“That sounds really tough.” He concluded.
Henry smirked. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
“I think… it’s the same as any other career. You just have to keep trying, and figure something out that works. You’re still new at it, you just have to ask for help, you know? Something that you’re terrible at doing.” Taron concluded.
“Well… I could say the same about you with the cooking today.” Henry’s smirk widened.
Taron blushed scarlet. “You’re right. I should’ve just asked you for help. I’m clearly terrible at this.”
“No, like you said - you just have to keep trying and practicing, and eventually it’ll work out. Same with furniture. You were so inexperienced before, and now you own your own store. And I should’ve let you practice more before.” Henry shook his head. “Why don’t we start over? With something simple?”
Taron grinned. “I’m so glad you’re back to normal again. You sure you’re not too tired to do this?”
Henry was already starting to clean up the mess Taron made. “I can’t let my baby starve, right?” When the two men finished cleaning up, Henry walked away, coming back with four pieces of bread.
“What are we making?” Taron asked, looking down at the bread.
“Grilled cheese.” Henry revealed.
“Grilled cheese?! I could’ve made that myself!”
“Are you sure?” Henry raised his eyebrows. “Okay, what’s the first step?”
“Um… put the bread in the toaster?”
Henry groaned. “No. You don’t put the bread in the toaster.” And so, he patiently taught Taron to make the best grilled cheese imaginable, putting in a few spices that he had purchased to make it even more magnificent. When they were done, they sat at the dining table, a small oak table Taron had made from scratch. It was one of Henry’s favourite pieces.
They laughed with each other, with classical music playing in the background, with both men realizing they had learned an important lesson that day about how to rely on someone when they needed it most, and how the sharing of skills could create something quite wonderful.